


Excoriate

by Davechicken



Series: The Emperor and his Knight [7]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo has issues with following an order, quite by accident, and won't settle until he's punished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excoriate

No one but the Emperor knew what goes on under Kylo’s black, swaddling clothes. He goes about his life masked, gloved, shielded. It had been the Leader’s decision, but his Emperor had decided (after a discussion with his pet Knight) to continue the tradition. It helped keep his expression concealed, and it kept people at a remove.

Kylo doesn’t want to interact with too many people. For one, their thoughts are loud enough as it is. For two, he wants to maintain the air of menace and threat and respect. Plus, he has all the socialisation he _wants_ and - indeed - **needs** in his Emperor, Lord, Master and Lover: Poe Dameron. 

The Knight enjoys this, because he can continue as he was, and then go back to their rooms and be who he _really is_. And who he really is happens to be the Emperor’s beloved pet and adoring devotee. The troopers know they’re bound to one another, but he suspects they don’t know precisely _how_. He catches snatches of wondering thoughts, but nothing in detail. No one dares wonder about their relationship in front of him, after all.

Under his clothing, he’s a marked man. Happily so. Pink exhaust-lines from where Poe’s nails scraped lovingly over pale skin. Faint purple and yellow stains from lips that sucked him to begging, all over. Places where he flushes when he thinks of him, cheeks that go red, lips that go full. He’s beloved, and he wouldn’t give it up for the whole galaxy. If Poe decided to throw the Empire to ruins, Kylo would not care. Not if Poe had a backup plan, a place for them to live together, forever. He’d give up all the capital ships and fine food and huge beds, if it meant Poe. Hell, he’d sleep on the floor at his feet if he wanted it. Kylo knows what his happiness revolves around, and it’s shaped like a short, tousle-haired wildling of a man.

Quite aside from the markings are the things Poe makes him wear. Around his throat, sometimes, he wears a collar. It is awkward under his clothes, but Poe sometimes wants it on anyway. Today he hasn’t put it on, but he has put a plug inside. He likes to use those to make Kylo ready for later use. Sometimes he’ll come deep inside him, then push a toy inside the minute he slips out. It makes Kylo feel better because there’s still some pressure inside when his Master leaves him, and also because he can imagine the sloshing, wet goop coating his insides. He loves knowing that Poe’s come inside his ass, has spent his seed inside of him. He loves making Poe happy, and there’s little further proof of his enjoyment than taking his come and all but rolling around in it. He happily swallows it, too, but there’s something about carrying around, letting it seep into his skin. He can feel it almost burning him up, like a brand. Like a fruit hollowed out and scooped bare, and stuffed with something better, something good.

The plugs also mean he’s ready for later use. Which is helpful, because Kylo can be impatient, and he is the first to admit this (to Poe, but no one else). If he wants fucking, he normally wants fucking _now_. And he’s prone to begging for less lube, less fingers, more dick. Which he can take, of course, but which can mean the next day he’s a little worse for wear. Which he can _also_ take, but he **can’t** take it when Poe declares him too unfit for use, and denies him any further penetration until he’s stopped hurting. And the tongue he applies then is _heaven,_ is _bliss_ , but if it’s not followed up by a fucking so hard he sobs… then he’s still frustrated. No matter how hard he comes from other practices, Kylo has his favourites. **Favourite**. It involves being reamed open at the end. It can start with hands, mouths, tongues, gentle and slow… but he wants Poe’s cock to slam into that place inside him that makes him _yowl_ in Shyriiwook, to come inside of him, and to fuck the climax out of him. Or - better yet - to make him come and then fuck him anyway. To be used when he’s already spent, to feel Poe abuse his body for his own pleasure and be helpless to ride the aftershocks of bliss as Poe has his wicked way with his exhausted body, driving him to dry, ball-tensing sequels that far exceed the main feature.

Oh yes.

They’d used plugs in their sex life before, of course, but ever since Poe took over the Empire, they’ve had more time to indulge in their more… interesting sexual practices. Which means now Poe can slip something firm and flared into him, and Kylo can walk around with no one knowing he’s a slut with his hole prepped for a thorough abusing. No one knows that - when he sits - he’s adjusting where the plate lies, squirming with his insides to clutch it tighter. Working his hole around the intrusion, making sure his internal muscles are kept nice and toned so he can please Poe to the best of his capability.

Poe has been using different ones on him, trying to find the fine balance between ‘nice and stretched and good around my cock’ and ‘too wide so I have to fuck him harder’ and ‘so tight that getting in is still difficult’ and ‘so small that it’s barely noticeable so Kylo feels frustrated and upset’. Kylo loves them all, but for different reasons.

Or… he _did_ love them all. Until right now, when he’d been sparring with one of the other Knights. They’d hurled themselves around the room with full gusto, red blades clashing in the high-vaulted chamber. Kylo had landed a staggering blow, and then - well.

He’d felt it it… _pop out._ And only his slacks kept it from sliding down his leg, or exploding out into the room. And he is so distressed when it happens that he doesn’t even _think_ about using the Force to slide it back in (although it would be possible the other Knight would feel it, if he did), and instead he clamps his legs tight and barks at them to leave. 

The other Force-sensitive does, confused, and leaves Kylo alone. He pushes the plug up again, but now he’s panicking and the fear won’t go away. It came out, which means he didn’t do as he was asked to. It was a simple control measure, a basic order, and he couldn’t follow through. Poe will be so _disappointed_ , and he does **everything** he can to keep Poe from being disappointed in him. Everything.

He reaches out with the Force in his distress, finding his Emperor, his Master, and calling for help. He knows he shouldn’t, but the worry in his chest is so high that he can’t stop himself. He waddles into the next room - one of their chambers - and awkwardly throws himself to his knees. He uses the soles of his feet to keep the plug from moving any more, and he shakes as he waits to see if Poe will come to punish him or not.

 _He deserves it_.

That’s all Kylo can think as he waits. _He deserves it_. His Emperor doesn’t demand much of him, and he doesn’t even deliver on that front. He’s trembling from head to toe by the time Poe arrives, and he throws himself onto all fours with his head bowed and a choked, wordless apology the moment the doors _shush_ closed behind him.

“I’msorryI’msorry,” he bubbles out, as he starts to crawl towards him, more terrified tones snapping out when he feels the plug slide out into his pants leg, the slick feel of lubricant drawing down his thigh. He whines, and grabs hold of Poe’s leg.  


“What’s wrong, pet?”  


Kylo shakes his head, too ashamed to admit it.

“Kylo… Kylo. Tell me what happened.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.  


“I can’t forgive you if I don’t know what you did.”  


That makes sense, and he curls in further, face against Poe’s knee, arms around his calf. “The– the– it came out. I didn’tmeantoIwasjusttraining…”

He knows he’s reacting like this because of previous events - not with his Poe - but he can’t _help_ it. He can’t **stop** it. The panic flashfloods through him, a wildfire of emotion and imagery and the guilt that feels like he’s swallowed the heart of a neutron star and it’s heavy and uncomfortable in his gut. His fingers claw through the fabric of Poe’s pants, and he rubs his masked face harder.

“Pet. **Tell me**.”  


The tone brooks no argument, and Kylo drops down to the ground.

“…it came out. It came out. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Master. I wasn’t trying to misbehave. Please. Whatever punishment you think I deserve… I was a bad pet, Master. I was bad.”  


Kylo lays his crimes out at Poe’s shiny boots, waiting for the first lash of tongue or hand. Instead, he feels fingers hook under the rear of his helmet, forcing his head up.

“Kylo.”  


He can’t look at him, even if his mask is turned to do so. 

Poe always knows.

“Look at me.”  


“My Lord…”  


“ _Look at me_.”  


Reluctantly, he does. He shakes as fingers find the clasps on his helm, release them, and toss the covering to one side. Hands in his hair, then, pulling him to an awkward kneel.

“I’m going to punish you, so that you know I’ve forgiven you. You didn’t do this deliberately, and we will learn from this. But I _will_ punish you, so that you can rest assured this incident is over.”  


He’s both elated and terrified. Elated that he _will_ be forgiven, and terrified as to **what** the punishment will be, to be sufficient enough to deal with both his error, his mistake, and his emotional outburst. He knows he’s being unreasonable and flighty, knows he’s demanded attention he didn’t deserve, and that needs punishing, too.

“Yes, Master.”  


The hand in his hair doesn’t let up, and Kylo’s eyes water from the sting of it. “Stand. And strip.”

Poe drags him to his feet awkwardly, and Kylo struggles not to fall over under the guiding hand. He keeps his head bowed and shoves at his pants with clumsy hands, feeling the plug drop to the ground as he kicks his legs out of the fabric. His boots need fingers to undo, so they have to wait, and he fights with the belt around his waist and his robes. Poe drags him to the bed, and he feels relieved when he’s thrown down face first, and can continue to undress; when Poe’s hand scrapes sharp lines over his ass and spanks him, hard. It’s not so hard that it could ever damage, but the sting and thud of it is welcome. He’s not even got his robes off, and the blows rain down.

His Master rarely has real cause to spank him, but will do for minor transgressions, too. Kylo fists the sheets and lifts his ass accordingly, somewhat conflicted. He needs more punishment than this, surely? This chastisement is for failing to follow protocol, not - not… being a bad little slut. 

He’s supposed to be tight for Poe. Not so loose he drops toys. “Master?”

“Are you questioning me?” Poe grabs his hair, pulls him backwards, makes him bend.

“No! Master, no!”  


Two fingers push into him, ignoring the stinging in his cheeks. They push in, and Kylo yelps, squirming under the sudden intrusion. It doesn’t hurt, not one bit. It feels good, but not enough. The hand in his hair pulls tighter, and he pants, open-mouthed, caught between the sting in his scalp and the low, slick pleasure in his throbbing ass.

“Because you’ve already been bad, haven’t you? And I need to make sure you learn your lesson.”  


Three fingers, and Poe’s fucking his ass in earnest with them. It’s worse than the pain, because this is pleasure he doesn’t deserve. He bites the back of his arm, tasting fabric, hating his body for getting off on this. He’s supposed to be punished so he doesn’t do it again, and he doesn’t know how to react to the lovely sensations he gets instead. His feet slide apart on the floor, offering more of his ass, even though he doesn’t deserve the reaming Poe’s hand is giving him. He tries to tilt his hips like a good little pet, tries to offer it all up, even if he shouldn’t have it. If Poe wants to torture him with bliss, he’ll take it. Take it, even if he shouldn’t. 

His head is a mess. He doesn’t know _what_ is going on, or which way is up. The confusion and the bodily sensation wipes through his already-raw mind, making it foggier and murkier and darker. The fingers splay and widen him, and Kylo cries out at it. “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry…”

“Shhh,” Poe says, and slams his fingers up to the knuckle. Kylo rides them for all he’s worth, trying to get them to brush against that place inside of him. “Shhh, pet.”  


“I’m **sorry** ,” he insists, louder.  


Poe flips him over, onto his back. Fingers come out, and grab his throat in his hand. Kylo offers it willingly, eyes half-shut, head tilted back. He swallows and breathes under it, begging for more. It presses down and down and down, and air becomes hotter, harder. Not so hot it doesn’t come through, but so hot it burns a little and his head swims. Hot enough that swallowing is bruisingly hard, and so is his dick, now. It springs up between them, bobbing and begging for attention.

But he’s being _punished_. For being _bad_. So he has to **ignore it**.

“I’m going to fuck you, now, pet,” Poe tells him. “Your plug still kept you open and ready, so you didn’t fail me, really. It kept you ready for your Master to use you when he wanted to. That’s why you’re going to get fucked.”  


Kylo can sort of understand, so he nods. Just a little.

“We’ll learn from this. We’ll put a bigger one in you, next time. Make sure you get stuffed and spread properly, if you’re going to work them loose.”  


Kylo nods even firmer at that. Fuller sounds good. Sounds really good.

“And when I’ve fucked you dry - which is what I wanted all along - you’re going to realise in the sting in your cheeks, the stretch in your legs, that you did precisely what I wanted, even if not _how_ I wanted it. You’re a good pet, to tell me. To tell me, and not to hide it.”  


“I would never!” Kylo blurts out, before he can stop himself.  


“I know. Which is why you’re going to be fucked into forgiveness, and then we hear no more about it. Do you understand?”  


He isn’t wholly sure, so he doesn’t nod. Not because he’s misbehaving, but because he doesn’t know if he can be forg– Poe looks angry, and Kylo’s anxiety skyrockets. “Master, I’m sorry–”

“Let me forgive you, then,” Poe says.   


Somehow he slips his pants open enough to pull out his dry cock. Kylo lifts his long legs and drapes his calves over Poe’s shoulders, bending himself in half like his Master usually wants, when it’s a _hard and fast_ time. He wriggles his back into the bed and grabs at the sheets, calling out in pleased bliss when Poe slams in. All the way in, in one go. Fabric rubs against his thighs, his Emperor not even undressed for this. Just his cock out, ready to take his pet.

Kylo loves Poe’s dick. It is the only one he’s ever let _near_ him, but that’s beside the point. Poe could also sodomise him with a sharp and pointy cane alone, and Kylo would be happy, but Poe _does_ have a wonderfully thick, long presence between his legs. It slaps in to the balls, and Kylo claws at the bedding. 

The hand on his throat presses down again, harshing his breathing, roughing his windpipe, making the world go fuzzy. He moans under it, feeling the way the vibrations are constrained by his hand, and then Poe’s too busy using him mindlessly for Kylo to think any more.

Poe should be a Sith, or at the very least a Dark Jedi. Kylo thinks if he _was_ then Kylo would **die** from it, because he can already fuck like he’s the whole Star Destroyer’s arsenal of cannon all firing in sequence. Slam, slam, slam. The sound of him inside, the feel of warm, sensitive skin dragging through his hole. The way his cockhead hits his prostate, and makes him _scream_ except the scream is **garbled** and Poe’s taking him so damn hard Kylo doesn’t even know what’s going on any more. The thought of sin and reparation is lost under the endless rough love, and Kylo arches and yells and gulps in air and he’s so, so, so sosososososo **owned**. So owned. From head to toe. All of him. His Master takes him so hard he’s a wriggling,writhing, bouncing _mess_.

Kylo’s body sings for him, and Poe takes him like he’s a thing to be owned, owned and adored and used and cherished. He can see the love in Poe’s eyes, and he knows - _knows_ \- no matter what he does wrong, no matter **what** \- he only need apologise and mean it and Poe will forgive him.

The thought is what does him in. He comes without permission, splattering all over Poe’s nice, neat uniform. He’s almost horrified, almost pleased. All over. All _over_. He grabs at Poe’s arms and shudders through the tail end of his climax, knowing Poe won’t stop just because he’s found his release. His head is warm and thuddy, like his ass, and Poe leans in to bite his mouth open. The briefest hesitation to enjoy the sting, and then his lips part and the tongue inside steals the last whispers of breath from him. Poe comes inside of him, hard and fast and beautiful, and Kylo takes him in as deep into his body as he can, because it won’t ever be as deep in his heart as he already is.

Poe forgives him. Poe _forgives_ him.

Kylo… lets him.

It’s okay.

It’s going to be okay. The hand on his throat lifts, and kisses replace it. He can still feel the after-impression, and he will all week.

Poe forgives him. That’s all that matters, and all that ever will.


End file.
